


You Lost Him

by orphan_account



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Arguments, Background Relationships, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Fights, Guilt, Mild Gore, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Resentment, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Janus is accepted, Patton goes to comfort Roman.He's quick to learn that Roman doesn't want his help.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761118
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106





	You Lost Him

Patton knows, deep down, that this is his fault. How could it not be? It was he all those years ago who pushed for the separation of the Sides. It was he who stole power from the Dark Sides to keep them from influencing Thomas in any “unacceptable” ways. He laid out the rules, he called out the shots, he tore Thomas away from the others if he felt they were becoming “too much.”

He was the one who tore Creativity in two and forced them away from each other, which, considering the current situation, is probably what led to this.

And he knows that this is all his fault.

He stands in Roman’s doorway, the usual warmth of Creativity’s room replaced with a biting cold, the light snuffed out like a candle and the colors, once vibrate, now muted, almost grey. Roman himself sits curled up in the corner, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a book in his hands, unopened, the Side’s eyes staring blankly at the cover and nothing more.

His sword rests beside him, its handle frayed and blade glowing a dim red.

Patton swallows, willing his hands to stop shaking. “Hey, kiddo,” he starts, his voice lowered to a hoarse whisper, “is it alright if I come in?”

The response is immediate, emotionless and cold: “No.”

Patton wavers, hesitating, wondering if he should just leave and come back to this another time—but the bite in Roman’s tone keeps him in place. “Okay,” he says, sitting down in the doorway. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers, rubbing circles that do little to combat the cold. “I…I wanted to see how you were doing. Today was rough, and—and I know it hit you harder than the rest of us.”

Roman pulls the blanket tighter around himself, blank stare turning sharp. His knuckles flash white as his grip tightens around the book in his hands, “Fine.”

Well. Lying won’t do. “It’s okay to not be okay, kiddo. I get it if you’re scared to talk about it, ’cause I get scared sometimes, too, but—”

“Stop,” Roman snarls, gaze snapping up to fix him with a glare. “Just stop.”

Patton snaps his mouth closed, falling silent.

The prince stares at him for a moment longer, intense and ugly from rage, before he looks away, curling in on himself. “…I don’t want to hear it,” he murmurs.

“Hear…what?” Patton asks, hands bunching up his sleeves in his fists.

Roman waves a hand in the air, and Patton’s heart sinks when he notices how the skin is charred black, littered with weeping sores, his fingers bloodied and pointed into claws.

Oh, Roman, what did you do to yourself?

“This,” he huffs, “this—this thing that you do. You always do it when you’ve done something wrong; putting on this act, like you’re some kind of father to us, like you care—”

“But I do care—”

“Do you? Do you really?” Roman deflates, but the fire returns in his red-rimmed eyes, the Side tapping his fingers on the book. “I’m starting to think you don’t. I’m starting to think that none of you do.”

Patton’s blood turns to ice, “Roman, of course we care! We’re family. We—we’d never mean to hurt you, and if we did, we’d try to fix it. That’s what we do.” Right?

Strangely, Roman laughs, so loud and sudden that Patton flinches. “Family?” Roman spits out, “Oh, yeah, do tell me about our family, Pat. I sure love being part of a family that gets after me for my choices and my goals, and then tells me it was wrong to sacrifice something I wanted more than anything else even though I did it for you. I love being part of a family that could throw me away without a second thought if I even slightly resembled my brother and his ideas—”

“What, no! We would never!”

“But you did! You threw him away, didn’t you?” Roman scowls at him through his tears, digging his nails into his knees. “He wasn’t good enough, you told me my own brother was bad, that he was dangerous—so I had to do my best to be enough. I had to be good or else nobody would want me!”

“I—”

“But it didn’t matter—it still doesn’t. Everything I’ve ever done was for all of you, for Thomas, and yet it’s never been enough!”

“Roman—”

“And I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels that way,” Roman goes on, ignoring him. “Logan slammed the door in my face when I saw him after the video. Did you even see him, Patton? He had a bruise around his neck. He was crying.”

His mouth goes dry. “What?”

Roman taps at his throat, and Patton sees it; the charred black crawls up his arm, moving passed his elbow. The sight is almost enough to make him gag, but he bites down on his tongue to keep from doing so, if only because of the realization that the charring isn’t from something Roman did but something else entirely scares him into silence.

“Your new boyfriend did a number on him,” Roman sneers. “Turns out we’re not as indestructible as we like to think, and apparently, being thrown aside by people you love is enough to make bruises stick. Who would’ve known, right?” Then, quieter, he adds, “It makes me wish I’d brought him out. Sided with him. Clearly, I didn’t have the right people around, and neither does Thomas.”

He can’t breathe. “I…Ro, I don’t—I didn’t mean—”

“You never mean to,” Roman shouts. The tears spill over, the book in his hands tearing, and he tosses it at the other Side, Patton scrambling away and watching it skid down the hallway. He doesn’t have enough time to react before Roman grabs him, throwing him against the wall. “Every time, every time you mess up, every time you hurt us—it’s always ‘I didn’t mean to!’ It’s always ‘I’ll do better!’ And then you never do get better—you just get worse! I mean, just look at today’s fiasco—you sided with a villain! You’ve led Thomas to believe in a liar!”

Patton whimpers, biting his lip. A sob chokes him, but he doesn’t dare make a noise, frozen in place even as Roman picks up his sword and points it at him.

For a brief second, he wonders if he’s going to stab him.

And then Roman puts it back in its sheath, and Patton has to dig his heels into the floor to keep from collapsing. “You can play around with your snake all you want,” he tells him, voice growing colder, deeper. Raised, charred skin pokes from underneath his collar. “You can pretend to have a family. You can even pretend that you ever cared even a little about me—but I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with this anymore.”

He turns his back, starting to leave.

Patton panics, voice shaking, hand trembling as he reaches for him, “Roman, please, this isn’t—this isn’t you.”

Roman falters, hand on the door frame.

Patton swallows passed the lump in his throat, “This isn’t the real you, you—I know you’re mad. You’re allowed to be mad! I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve hurt you all…badly. And I can’t make any excuse for it.”

Roman sways. Doesn’t speak.

“…I know things are confusing now, but we can work through it, okay? We—we just have to talk about it. And then—then we can move on from this. Go back to normal.”

He breaks off, hoping, praying, that he’s done it. That he’s broken through to him.

But Roman just shakes his head, shoulders slumped, head bowed.

Just a shadow of the Side he used to be.

“I don’t want to go back to it,” he mutters, voice rough from crying or from screaming, or maybe even both. “And even if I did, there’s nothing to go back to. You already ruined it.”

He closes his door, shutting Patton out—who, upon watching the door’s symbol twist and shatter, disappearing before his eyes, falls to his knees and sobs.


End file.
